


Laundry Day

by rlnerdgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Derek does laundry every Thursday, Laura Plays Matchmaker, M/M, Stiles watches him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rlnerdgirl/pseuds/rlnerdgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has strategically scheduled to work at the deli every Thursday to eternity, or, at least, until Hottie McTight Pants stops doing his laundry at Suds & Stuff, or changes to a different day. Until then, Stiles will linger behind the deli counter and watch him.</p><p>Or until his boss, Laura, blackmails him into crossing the street and having a conversation with the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the following request via Tumblr:
> 
> Sick Day Drabble Request: Stiles stalks Derek into a laundromat and bugs him the entire time his whites are washing / delicate setting on his jeans.

The deli counter faces the front windows, which make up the entire front of the store, which face the Laundromat across the street, which is where, every Thursday, Hottie McTight Pants does his laundry. Hottie McTight Pants first started showing up a month an a half ago, which, Stiles assumes, is when he must have moved to the neighborhood. That, or came to the realization that Suds & Stuff, despite it's worn down sign and sketchy exterior, is clean, has inside and outside seating, and, most gloriously, provides free wifi. 

 

Whatever the reason, as of a month and a half ago, when Hottie McTight Pants first appeared, Stiles had preemptively slotted himself into every Thursday timeslot for the foreseeable future. Mainly because Danny had originally been working the next Thursday and Stiles knew, without a sliver of a doubt, that if he let Danny take that shift, he'd never see Thursdays and Hottie McTight Pants again. Unless he actually did something crazy, like went across the street and introduced himself.

 

"I will buy you a sandwich if you just go over there already."

 

Stiles glances away from where Hottie McTight Pants is pushing through the Suds & Stuff front door to glare at Laura, her red lips curved into a dangerous smile. "I get my sandwiches for free." This is not the first time they have had this discussion, and, no doubt, it won't be the last.

 

"Fine, twenty dollars."

 

He doesn't even grace that with an answer, just turns back around to look through two window fronts and watch Hottie McTight Pants meander to the same washer he goes to every Thursday simultaneously thankful the man's laundry time is before the lunch rush, and attempting to not stare like the complete creeper he is being. Vaguely, like every Thursday, he wonders if Hottie McTight Pants' pants are the ones he hates the most, which is why they're still available on laundry day, which is, like always, a disappointing thought.

 

"How about this," Laura starts, sidling up next to him, a steady pressure against his side as she leans forward, elbows on the counter, mimicking his posture.

 

Okay, it's not subtle at all.

 

"You go over there, and I don't fire you."

 

With a squawk of protest, he stands and pushes himself away from the counter. "What? You can't fire me for that! That's against, like, every law in the employee manual!"

 

The look on Laura's face says she could give a shit less about the employee manual and what the laws are, which is doubly confirmed when she raises a single eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure I can do whatever I want because you're too lazy and poor to actually try to file a law suit."

 

It's a perfect reminder of why he hates her a little bit.

 

"So," she tilts her head in the direction of the Laundromat, "how about you put your oh so subtle stalking skills to work and make your way across the street. You have an hour before the lunch rush starts, and I better see you actually talk to him before you come back."

 

Stiles face twists. "You're going to watch me?"

 

Her smile lengthens and thins, becomes predatory, but she doesn't answer.

 

"That's creepy."

 

The already raised eyebrow arches higher. "Creepier than watching a guy do laundry every week for six weeks?"

 

"That..." He frowns, and then sneers a little bit, meaning to be mocking but just feeling like a five year old. Probably looks like it too. "Is a really good point."

 

With Laura watching him, Stiles pulls off his deli apron and walks around the counter, pausing at the front door to turn around. Sure enough, Laura's standing there, resting elbows on the counter, watching. "Okay, okay, fine," he mutters sourly, pushing through the door before attempting to casually, nondescriptly, walk across the street.

 

Unfortunately there is nothing casual or nondescript in walking into a Laundromat without any actual laundry. He only realizes this as he does it, but is pretty sure he can hear Laura's cackle ringing through his head. The temptation to turn around and check to see if she's laughing is strong, but his eyes have caught Hottie McTight Pants' back and the desire to never look away from that broad, muscled back is a hell of a lot stronger.

 

Attempting, for the life of him, not to be awkward, Stiles makes his way to the only table hidden from the deli's view, and takes a seat. It's also a table that happens to give him a partial view of the work Hottie McTight Pants is doing at the machines. Two of them, like every week, but now Stiles can actually see what he's doing. 

 

Predictably, whites go in one.

 

Hilariously, a pile of jeans go in the other, which in it of itself is not hilarious. The fact that Hottie McTight Pants pauses and, very deliberately, puts them on the 'delicates' setting, is.

 

Stiles laughs, and then has a holy-fuck moment when Hottie McTight Pants turns his head and his eyes, which are a kind of Godly shade of light green-blue, zero in on him. While, sure, the color of his eyes may be a la Zeus, the way they're narrowed and the shear intensity is a heck of a lot more Hades. His instinctive physiological response is torn between popping a boner and wanting to run away. Thankfully, the two cancel each other out and leave Stiles a little giddy and nervous. A little more amped up than his normal self, which is something he can deal with.

 

Hottie McTight Pants' attention doesn't waver, and his attention demands some kind of response. "I'm sorry, it's just... your jeans..."

 

Tight Pants' gaze flickers from Stiles to the machine, and it's like a physical weight lifts off of him, and then crushes back down when the eyes are back on him, a glimmer of a question in them now.

 

"Delicates." Stiles half coughs, half laughs, and then pushes himself up from his seat, because, well, he's kind of in it up to his neck now, so he might as well commit. "I've never seen anyone wash their jeans on delicate. I mean, it's not like they're all that delicate," he explains, walking over until he's hovering just a machine away from Tight Pants.

 

God, those pants are tight.

 

Hottie McTight Pants has a really, really good ass. While Stiles has admired it from afar for quite some time now, he had never realized that it would probably only get better the closer he was. The more you learn.

 

"Are you washing anything?" 

 

Stiles chokes a little. "Um, no. No, not yet. I was just..." He looks around the mat, letting his eyes wander a bit. There's nothing to actually look at. He does his own laundry here on Tuesdays, which is the day off that he does housework, and he may or may not use the same machines Hottie McTight Pants does. "Scoping the place out," he finishes. "You know, seeing if I wanted to do my laundry here."

 

The lie Stiles is selling? Hottie McTight Pants is clearly, one hundred percent, not buying. "Really?" Monotone flatness of pure disbelief.

 

"Yup." Stiles coughs down the high, anxious pitch his voice has suddenly taken on. "Been doing my laundry at..." He searches for the name of the place. He's been with Suds & Stuff for so long he can't remember. "Slick n' Suck- Soap. Slick n' Soap. The place on E and twenty-fourth." Heat is flushes up his neck, he can feel it, knows exactly how prominent it is, and can do nothing. Fuck his life.

 

At least he hadn't said Dick n' Suck, because those two words are definitely going through his brain at the moment, and in close relation to each other.

 

Hottie McTight Pants is raising a thick eyebrow, stern press of his lips curving ever so slightly in what is very probably an amused smile. "Really?"

 

"Yup." Again a little pitched, a little breathy. Stiles coughs. There's something to the man's face, the way his eyebrow is curving and his almost-smile that seem awfully familiar.

 

"You like what you see then?" Hottie McTight Pants asks, shifting slightly to turn to face Stiles head on.

 

It breaks Stiles' brain a little bit, because it seems dangerously like Hottie McTight Pants is indicating himself and he can't quite control the way his eyes flicker down and up before his mouth is answering, "Definitely." Directly after which his heart starts hammering in response to the immediate embarrassed panic that grips him, flush rushing a little faster, and then hotter when he catches those light green-blue eyes again and the soft smile is now decidedly wider and distinctly-

 

Fucking Laura.

 

He only thinks of about three ways to kill Laura when he gets back to the deli before Hottie McTight Pants is in front of him, a towering presence despite not actually being any taller than Stiles. "Good," he breaths.

 

Stiles isn't sure what he's supposed to do with that, what it's in response to, and then he doesn't have to worry about it because Hottie McTight Pants is sliding one hand behind his neck, and the other curves around his hip, and theyre kissing. A curious pressure of lips and then a hot, wet tongue licking against him and, when Stiles' jaw drops, mostly out of shock, into his mouth. It takes a full five seconds before his brain manages to start working again and he's bringing his hands up to claw at Hottie McTight Pants' shoulders, kissing him back.

 

When they separate they're both breathing hard and Stiles is somehow sitting on top of a washer chugging away at bleaching Hottie McTight Pants' whites. 

 

Said man is standing between his knees, grinning like he's won the big teddy bear at the fair. "It's Derek, by the way."

 

"Huh?" Is all that Stiles manages to get out. He's actually pretty proud of it.

 

"My name. Hottie McTight Pants is flattering, but it's Derek."

 

Stiles flushes red, instantly, groans and retracts his hands from Hottie- Derek's chest to bury his face into them. "Oh my God."

 

Between his knees, Derek laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for quick and easy updates on what I'm writing!


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